


Mustardfell - 1

by MustardMan



Series: MustardFell [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Blood and Injury, Domestic Violence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:28:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29554923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MustardMan/pseuds/MustardMan
Summary: This story takes place before the fall of the kingdom and the subsequent reorganization of MustardFell into a imperial dictatorship, focusing on the effects of Chara and Asriel's deaths, and how life was for Toriel in the days leading to her escape. This is a short story that I made on a whim, I hope you enjoy. :)
Relationships: Asgore Dreemurr & Toriel
Series: MustardFell [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2171334





	Mustardfell - 1

**Author's Note:**

> MustardFell is my own personal interpretation of Underfell. I never felt as if fanon Underfell was gritty/ grim dark enough and decided to make my own, focusing on what if Underfell was grim dark. MustardFell includes dictatorship, corruption, rape, murder, torture, gangs, gang on gang violence, rebellion, propaganda, domestic abuse, homophobia, sexism, racism (monsters hating humans), objectification, transphobia, manipulation and whatever the hell else I couldn't think of.

This story takes place a month after Chara and Asriel have died in MustardFell.

Domestic violence & blood warning.

Toriel.

The days had grown darker since their children had died. Colors had become dull and food lost it's flavor. The once pleasant aroma of baked pies and carefully cultivated flowers had become odorless. The fate of the Underground and the lives of the royal family had darkened that day. That fated day when children played as warriors and died like a pacifist. But Toriel didn't know her children's plan. Chara, who was in steadily declining position, was still in her bed and unresponsive despite Toriels touches and urges. She could still remember quite clearly how cold and limp Chara felt in her paws when she raised the human up from the bed in which she had died in, and to the living room where Asgore sat, glasses on muzzle. Her blood curdling, agonized wail sounded like an alarm and was soon joined by the angered bellow of an enraged husband. She was hysterical. He was furious. She pondered if she was a bad mother as the weight of a lost child hung heavily upon her. He pondered if it was assassination that took his little girl.

She remembered the day so clearly, so vividly. With such pristine detail they she would have thought she had lived through the painful day several times over. Which in a way, she did. The nightmares never stopped plaguing her. Although there were minor alterations to the terror dreams, they were mostly the same. Chara limp and skin more pale than usual, eyes dulled and gray, joints so loose and free hanging. Perhaps in a variation Chara would be a rotting corpse who's jaw opened to let loose a tidal wave of writhing, juicy adult maggots, eyes having become mere eyesockets, portions of face having been stripped by crow or eaten by maggot, or maybe Toriel was walking in an abyss. No matter the variation, the core details remained the same.

Toriel didn't have any brutal recurring dream with Asriel. She didn't get to. He never made it back from the outside world. He died out there in foreign lands, alone without protection. Her dreams involving him were always of his brightest moments. His small "I love you"s, his selfless acts of kindness, his curious nature... The feel of his body wrapped in her arms, the feel of his fur as she planted loving kisses on his brow and cheek. The dreams that hurt most is when she held a baby Asriel in her arms, cradling him softly. He was the most fragile thing, tiny in her giant arms. A piece of her. A piece of Asgore. And then, sometimes, at random occurrences, his baby skull would cave in to dust. Within seconds, the small babe wrapped in the softest cloth the kingdom could provide was reduced to dust, staining her clothes, stabbing her heart. Her wails were hysterical, both in the dream and as she woke. Her dear... Her son. Asriel.

This was a month after the death of the royal children, and the Underground was still reeling from it. Back then, they did not develop much in terms of technology. There were no news papers or news channels, but word spread by mouth and courier like wild fire and took the entirety of their kingdom by storm! Rage and fury rose from the depths of their mountain kingdom, joined by woe and heartache! Toriel and Asgore were not alone! A blow to the royal family was a blow to them all, everyone wept!

And now, a month later, it was silent. The only sounds in the house were the gentle cracking of the fire place the sound of glass cups being placed against marble counter top. The crisp sound of iced cubes hitting the glass and the subsequent pouring of iced water. Those were the only sounds. Asgore didn't like noise anymore. His patience was thin these days. Toriel clutched a slice of lemon with her nails and set it on the rim of the glass, judging the drink decent before delivering it to her brooding husband, who sat in the oaken living room. His features were cast in shadow, only partially illuminated by the fire beside him. His long waved, obsidian colored hair shone in the light of the fire.

"Woman." He spoke, bellowing with a single word. His powerful voice startled her. "Why do you interrupt me?" Asgore asked, though he did not remove his eyes from the wall he was staring at. More accurately, the picture. A picture of Asriel and Chara. Toriel was quick to reply, speaking with a silky smooth calmness out of practice and necessity. "I have your drink, dearest." She explained as she approached slowly and set the cup down on a small table beside the arm of the chair. Asgore took a few seconds, but he slowly turned to look at the cup. Only now, when his face was illuminated by the glow of fire, could she see his eyes. Bloodshot, accompanied by heavy bags underneath his eyes. Asgore wasn't sleeping well still. Neither was Toriel. Asgore stared at the cup before his eyes suddenly met Toriels. "I did not want water."

Toriel raised a brow. "You specifically requested iced water with lem- NO!" Asgore shouted as he slammed his fists on the arms of the chair with sudden anger. The power and bass in his voice boomed in a manner that would befit the Mountain King. She silenced herself. Silence set in. Asgore began to speak several moments later. "Why must you anger me, woman? Why must you be so forgetful? I requested iced lemonade, you daft bird! Why must you be so forgetful?" Asgore clocked back his right paw and smacked the glass across the room. It shattered violently against their walls. "Damn you, woman!" He bellowed. Toriel instinctually stepped away as Asgore grew angry - he degraded her. Toriel furrowed her brows before speaking. "I am not the subject of your anger, Dreemurr! Do not project your anger unto me! we both weep and grieve together as husband and wife! You will stop addressing me in such a manner! I am your wife - You /WILL/ give me respect!" Toriel demanded with sudden ferocity, teeth clenched in anger. Asgore's gaze hardened. Finally, he began to rise. Asgore clutched the arms of the chair and lifted himself up.

6'8. A behemoth. A mountain of a man stacked with with muscle, more than capable of tearing doors of hinged and carrying sizable boulders that would shatter the spines of other men. Wide shoulders with a broad back and a thick neck that supported his chiseled features, thick obsidian beard and intimidating horns. "I am the KING! The King of this forsaken mountain, I am entitled to do as I wish! You will not deny me!" He yelled as spit flew out his mouth, a portion clinging to his beard and the remainder falling near Toriels feet. He was approaching. "Asgore, stop this!" She demanded as she stepped back twice more.

"At my command I WILL arrange for you to be flogged in the city square and dragged through the streets like the common whore and none would dare speak against my wish! You dare to speak to your King with such disrespect?" Asgore's bear sized paw folded into a mighty fist that smashed against Toriels jaw. She felt a sharp pain overtake her jaw followed by a sudden and pained looseness, then finally the impact on the floor. It took her a few moments to comprehend what had happened. She had been punched, her jaw had been dislocated, and the floor met her muzzle. Her nose scrunched and the cartilage felt as if it had torn. When she placed her paws onto the wooden floor and pushed herself up, Toriel could see a puddle of blood. Her blood. Not only did she have a busted lip, but her nose was bleeding profusely. With a lick of her tongue, she judged that a tooth of hers had been knocked sideways as well. She did not weep. She turned and stared at Asgore with fury that would burn swaths of green, and he returned one back. Not of fury, but of disgust. "Clean your mess. I won't have my floors be ruined by you." Asgore demanded before stomping away.

This wasn't the first time.


End file.
